


I Never Knew How Much You Loved Me

by MsJonathanWalsh (PhantomWriterAnon)



Category: People of Earth (TV 2016)
Genre: Break Up, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Make Up, Misunderstanding, Pre-Canon, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Secrets, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriterAnon/pseuds/MsJonathanWalsh
Summary: Before StarCrossed, before Beacon... Ozzie Graham's life still didn't make sense. He'd thought that Jonathan loved him, and that he loved the man as well. And then Jonathan cheated on him, and two plus two suddenly equaled five.





	I Never Knew How Much You Loved Me

Ozzie Graham was in hell. Not literally, of course. But, as far as he was concerned, Christmas Eve at Glint was as close as he'd come to hell on Earth. 

Well, aside from the hallucinations... ever since he'd hit that deer in Beacon, it was like the damn thing was  _haunting_ him. Which was absolutely ridiculous. The idea that a ghost deer out to avenge its death would waste its time haunting  _him_ was about as plausible as the good folks of StarCrossed actually being victims of 'alien abduction'. 

In other words,  _highly_ unlikely. 

 _This_ was an entirely different kind of hell. It came in the form of cheesy, outdated holiday music being broadcast over the PA system; of a garish Christmas tree that seemed impossibly tall, twinkling with bright white lights and overflowing with beautifully wrapped presents; of drunken coworkers pawing at him and asking insanely personal questions about his holiday plans. Questions that he had no good answer to. 

Most of his coworkers knew that there was a 'special someone' in Ozzie's life. If someone were to ask about them, Ozzie always stuck to the same old vague script - he never specified name, or sex, or race, just that they were doing well and he would pass along their well-wishes. It wasn't like he could just come out and say: "I'm banging the boss". Yeah, that would go over  _fabulously_. In a matter of minutes, he'd go from promising journalist to young man whoring himself out to advance his fledgling career. 

Jonathan had been turned off by the idea of 'Ozzie' and 'whore' being used in the same sentence, but had conceded that people _would_ talk - and that certainly wasn't the kind of publicity that he needed while trying to rebuild his career. As long as he wasn't going around saying he was on the market, Jonathan could live with a little white lie or two.

"...are you even listening to me? Earth to Ozzie." A well-manicured hand waved in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts and back down to Earth. The room swam back into focus and he realized that he'd zoned while talking to a coworker. 

He set his near-empty glass down on the bar. He'd done enough drinking for one night. "Sorry, I think I spaced out for a second there. What's up?"

She rolled her eyes, "It's a good thing I like you, otherwise I'd take that personally." She took another sip of her grasshopper, before inclining her head in the direction of the tree. "Check out the arm candy with Mr. Walsh. She looks like a model."

As soon as his eyes fell on the couple in question, he found himself reaching for the recently abandoned drink. He felt something unidentifiable tighten in his chest and he couldn't stop himself from biting out, "I wonder how much she's charging him an hour."

"Whoa there, Oz." She was smiling, though it was impossible to tell whether it was in amusement or sympathy. Perhaps a small sliver of both. "Retract the claws. Jealousy -,"

Ozzie finished the remainder of his drink in one swallow, "Who said anything about jealousy? The boss is free to sleep with whoever, and..." his eyes raked over the young woman again, "whatever he wants. It's none of our business."

"Who said anything about sleeping -," but Ozzie, clearly done with this conversation, had already started to walk away. 

There was no good way to handle a situation such as this. Yes, he was beyond furious. He hated that Jonathan would do this to him - he'd never felt the need to bring a date to any of their company functions before, what made this time so different? And he hated that that...  _whatever_ she was... was free to do whatever the hell she wanted to Jonathan because she was young and female and beautiful... and most importantly, she was not in his employ. 

He really just wanted to sit and stew on his own, to drown his sorrows in another rum and coke and forget this whole mess ever happened. He really didn't expect Jonathan to be stupid enough to break through the crowd (most of whom had begun to messily unwrap their presents) and try to  _introduce_ him to the girl.

The first thing Ozzie noticed were her eyes - they were the purest blue that he'd ever seen, impossibly wide and so full of life. She had long black hair which fell to the middle of her back, and a rosebud mouth that was turned up into the slightest of smiles. Her dress - was that red velvet? Ozzie barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes - was a knee length halter, with bright white fur around the collar and at the cuffs of the sleeves. It hugged her curves tight and left little to the imagination. 

And Jonathan was looking at her like she hung the moon and strung along the stars. 

It made Ozzie sick.

"Ozzie, I'd like to introduce you to my da-," the girl was already extending one petite, well-manicured hand in Ozzie's direction, which he very plainly ignored. 

"I already know who she is, Walsh. And let me say, I'm not all that impressed." Ozzie said flatly. The girl's eyes widened and her hand fell limply to her side. She looked between Ozzie and Jonathan, unsure of what her next move should be and seeking guidance. "I've always known that you were an ass, I just never thought you'd stoop so low."

He didn't think he'd ever seen Jonathan get angry before, but if the look on his face were any indication, right now he was pretty damn close. "Y'know, I'm just gonna chalk this whole mess up to you having one too many drinks." He made a subtle motion to the bartender to cut him off. "Because that's really no way to talk to your boss -,"

Ozzie's face fell, "So that really is all that I am to you, huh? An employee for you to occasionally fuck, that gets thrown aside when a newer, prettier model comes along?"

The anger on Jonathan's face morphed into something else entirely. "If you would just listen to what I'm trying to tell you, you'd realize that it isn't like that -,"

But Ozzie was done listening, "Y'know, I think that we're done here. Don't bother coming back to my place after the party dies down." He downed the last of his drink, "I'll head out to Beacon and do your stupid story, and then I'm done. Don't call me, or text me, or email or write or  _anything_. I don't want to have  _anything_ to do with you anymore."

By this point, their conversation has started to attract unwanted attention. "Ozzie, this really isn't the place to be having this conversation -,"

"Well, then, let me solve that problem for you right now. This conversation is over." Slamming his empty glass on the counter, he got up on shaking legs and started over to the coat closet. After a second's hesitation, Jonathan was just a few steps behind. This time, without his precious date. 

"You're in no condition to drive, Oz. At least let me drive you home and make sure you get in alright, and then I'll get out of your hair." There was another new one - he didn't think he'd ever heard Jonathan Walsh  _plead_ either. "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you -,"

Ozzie's stomach clenched in an entirely  _different_ way. The closest thing he'd ever gotten to a declaration of love from his boss, and it had to come at a time like this? "I'll hail a cab." He said darkly. "And trust me, you'd find a new hole to stick it in quick enough." He glared pointedly at the young girl.

Jonathan's nose wrinkled in disgust, "God, no. Ozzie, you really have all of this backwards."

"Goodbye, Walsh."

Walsh didn't follow him out of the party. Nobody did. He supposed that it was better that way. He needed time to stew, to think about what had happened. 

He didn't know why he'd bothered to hail a cab, except that the tiny voice in the back of his head wouldn't shut up about Jonathan doing something seriously stupid if any harm should befall him. He didn't know why he still cared about Jonathan's feelings - after all, he'd already resolved to formally cut ties with his boss as soon as he sobered up. He didn't want the smarmy bastard to try and get over on him while he was still under the affects of the alcohol. 

It was only when he crashed into bed thirty minutes later that he realized that he was still in hell. Hell was not being bathed in the warmth of Jonathan's jovial blue eyes, or listening to his buttery-smooth voice as he rambled on about everything and nothing. When he wasn't near Jonathan, when Jonathan's perfect eyes were on someone else, it felt like this tremendous piece of Ozzie was missing. Like nothing would be right again until he was back where he belonged - at Jonathan's side. 

Ozzie closed his eyes, one hand reaching out and squeezing Jonathan's pillow. It still smelled slightly of his aftershave. 

He resolved to never get this drunk again. It was making him into a sappy, pathetic romantic. 


End file.
